


Not like this

by Teary_smiles



Category: Major Crimes (TV), The Closer
Genre: Angst, F/F, Mention of Death, Sad, mention of sharon, no real ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 16:01:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14115870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teary_smiles/pseuds/Teary_smiles
Summary: Sharon isn’t dead I refuse to believe it. But. What if she was?Proceed with Angst.Brenda and Andrea grieve together over the woman they both loved and lost.





	Not like this

**Author's Note:**

> First of all: I really need a regular beta but I don't have one so this went completely unproofread. If you notice any mistakes lmk and I'll try to fix them, and if you feel like beta-ing for me hmu :)
> 
> Secondly: I don't do angst, but when I finally watched what I had been avoiding forever, I felt angsty, so enjoy my ramblings.

“Let me in,” Brenda demanded, “Please” She added with her best southern belle smile.  
“We can’t do that ma’am”  
“We’re a protective custody, and it's our duty to protect Ms. Hobbs, who told us she was not expecting any visitors today.”  
“Alright, well, most days I would reason with you. I would make a logical argument and probably cheat or lie through my teeth to get in there, because I really need to get in there. But you see y’all, today is not most days, which is why I really need to get in there, and I have a gun, and sweet southern charisma because my momma raised me right, but my poppa taught me how to shoot, and years of being a girl in the police academy, and CIA training taught me how to hurt you worse without it. So clearly you don’t know who I am, I’ll forgive that, but y’all had better let me in real soon or—“  
Just then the door opened, and the person Brenda had driven all this way to see poked their head out.  
“Brenda?”  
“Hello sweetheart,” Brenda sighed with a smile, aggressively pushing her way inside the apartment past two bodyguards who were muttering amongst themselves  
“Brenda, as in Brenda Leigh Johnson?”  
“The Brenda Leigh Johnson?”  
“The one who” at that, Brenda slammed the door behind her, sure she didn’t want to hear whatever awful but probably true things they had to say.  
Any other day, Andrea would have started by asking Brenda why the fuck she was here, especially when she now lived across the country, but, as she had vaguely heard Brenda say in her high-pitched voice and southern lilt through the door, ‘today is not most days’. So instead she walked over to her couch and plopped herself down and didn’t bother to look back. Soon enough, Brenda took a seat beside her, and they sat in silence for a while.  
Brenda looked around the immaculately decorated condo, cleaner than her place was on the best of days, with urban looking furniture seemingly right out of a catalogue, yet somehow perfectly cozy and homey. She was only distracted from her glancing around by a sob escaping the other woman’s lips.  
“She’s really gone isn’t she?” Andrea cried.  
Brenda’s maternal instinct kicked in, and she moved herself closer to Andrea and wrapped her arms around her. They held each other in an embrace for a while, until Andrea pulled away to wipe the tears from her face.  
“You know I miss her too,” Brenda said, breaking the silence this time, “Her attitude, and her relentlessness…” She reminisced aloud, more to herself than anyone else at this point.  
“And her smile,” Andrea continued, “and her love for her kids, and capacity for compassion…”  
“And her eyes.” They both said nearly at the same time, prompting a smile from Brenda, and a light chuckle.  
“You know, we’re more alike than you think.”“Oh yeah, how’s that? Other than that Stroh wants to kill both of us apparently.” She said, too tired to keep the snark out of her voice.  
“We both loved her.”

It was a statement, plain and simple, and Andrea didn’t bother to deny it. She had neither the energy, nor the will. The love of her life just died, and now she was sitting in her condo crying, with the last person she ever expected to even see again since she’d moved halfway across the country.

The solemn look in Andrea’s tearing eyes was all the confirmation Brenda didn’t even need, but noted anyways.

Brenda let out a deep sigh and got up navigate her way through the kitchen to rummage for any kind of alcohol and some glasses. Andrea spoke over her shoulder while Brenda continued to scavenge for a receptacle other than a bowl.

“What are you doing here?”  
“I needed someone who understood.” Brenda replied softly while continuing to open cupboards, and Andrea continued to be either deliberately unhelpful or too tired and completely oblivious to Brenda’s attempts at getting alcohol into the both of them to be of any help.  
“I don’t understand you. I’ll never understand you; you ran away from ever having a chance.” Andrea snarked.  
“And you let her marry someone else.” Brenda shot back, returning their conversation to sitting in the relative silence of Brenda’s footsteps alone. Brenda walked back to the couch setting down 3 bottles of wine and 2 mugs seemingly satisfied with her find.

“I didn’t come here to argue,” Brenda said, pouring from the first bottle of red, “I came to be depressed, so let's drink.” Brenda continued to pour until her cup was filled to the brim, and then handed Andrea both a cup and the bottle as she began to slurp from her own. Andrea put the cup back down on the coffee table and took three swigs straight from the bottle. Unsure what to say, they both sat and sipped in silence. 

“Legs.” Brenda spoke seemingly out of the blue. “Sharon had great legs too.”  
“You’ve got pretty nice legs yourself.”  
“Oh,” Brenda said, the alcohol making it her blush even deeper, “thanks. You too I guess.”  
Unexpectedly, Andrea leaned over, closed the distance between them, and pressed her lips to Brenda’s. Brenda closed her eyes, but it didn’t feel right. Andrea pulled away with a deep sigh seemingly feeling the same, and rested her head on Brenda’s shoulder. They both loved had loved a person, they now both lost, and try as they might, they couldn't replace Sharon with each other. 

Neither of them knew, but both of them had one more thing in common. They were more tired than they could comprehend, being both sleep deprived from seeing Sharon every time they closed their eyes, and being completely emotionally drained from not being able to properly process her loss. They would learn to eventually, and the other’s presence would help. So would Stroh’s death. But for now, all it did was hurt. For the both of them.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. 

Now neither of them had Sharon.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

This isn't right.

Sharon wasn’t supposed to die.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really bad at finishing fics but spite is one hell of a motivator. Call me NaCl because I'm salty about this. They shouldn't have killed Sharon.


End file.
